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She nods, but her fingers remain tight around mine.

Mia arrives a few minutes later with three other Hartwell employees. They arranged cover so they could attend, and they settle into the row behind us. When Mia catches my eye, she gives me a small wave. I smile back, touched that they wanted to be here.

At ten to two, the doors at the back of the room open. The conversations around us begin to fade as Eric enters with Daniel and the rest of the Voss team.

They take up most of the front row across the aisle. Nearly everyone turns to watch them, but Eric doesn’t seem to notice.

He’s wearing the navy suit he laid out in my bedroom last night, along with the white shirt and tie he carefully arranged on the hanger. Right now, he looks powerful and untouchable. But I’m lucky enough to know the man beneath the suit—the one who put his face on a mug, charmed my difficult cat, and held me in bed last night while he told me he loved me.

Eric says something to Daniel before sitting down. His gaze finds mine at once, and something in his face softens. The corner of his mouth lifts in the same private smile he gave me in bed this morning. No one else would notice the difference, but I do.

Then he sees Grandma beside me and turns away before she catches him watching.

“Look at him,” Grandma mutters. “The absolute vulture.”

The word bothers me, but her hand is still tense inside mine. I give it another squeeze and say nothing.

The doors open again with less than two minutes to spare, and Chloe hurries into the room. She spots us and slips into the empty seat beside me.

“You came.”

“Of course I came.” Grandma leans across me, and Chloe presses a kiss to her cheek.

At two, the seven council members enter through a side door and take their seats at the raised desk. The room falls quiet as the council chair switches on her microphone and calls the meeting to order.

The first two items are over almost as soon as they begin. The council members ask a few questions, vote, and move on. Less than ten minutes later, the chair calls Application Twenty-Six Fourteen.

Eric and the same silver-haired man who represented Voss at the last hearing rise from the front row and take their places at the applicant’s table.

The city’s planning director presents her final report on the Voss hotel. She begins with the changes Voss made to the design, then explains the thirty-two conditions the company must follow. They cover construction hours, truck routes, noise, and the steps Voss must take to protect nearby businesses. She finishes by recommending approval.

The council members ask several questions. Once they’re finished, one member moves to approve the application with all thirty-two conditions. Another seconds the motion, and the chair asks the clerk to call the vote.

The first council member votes yes. The second votes no. The third votes yes, saying the new conditions should protect the boulevard during construction. The fourth votes no because she still believes the hotel is too large for the street.

The vote is tied at two each.

Councilor Lopez votes no.

Grandma releases a long breath. Voss now has three votes against the hotel and only two in favor. One more no will defeat the application.

From my seat, I can see Eric in profile. He looks calm and certain, not like a man who’s one vote away from losing his first major project as CEO and giving the board a reason to question whether he’s ready to lead Voss. I want to cross the aisle and take his hand, but Grandma is still holding mine. I hold on to her instead.

The sixth council member votes yes, bringing the count to three each.

Rhonda turns toward us with a quick grin. Only Councilor Bell is left, and Rhonda’s contact was certain she would vote against the hotel.

Bell leans toward her microphone. “I still have concerns about the size of this development and its effect on Hartwell Boulevard. However, the revised plans meet the city’s requirements, and the added conditions address the main problems raised during this process. For those reasons, I vote yes.”

Grandma’s hand goes slack inside mine.

“The motion carries,” the chair says. “Four votes to three. Application Twenty-Six Fourteen is approved, subject to the thirty-two conditions.”

For several seconds, I don’t move. The word approved seems to hang in the air, waiting for someone to correct it.

No one does.

Several people in the Voss row speak at once, their relief loud enough for the chair to call for order. Daniel and the rest of the team rise and exchange handshakes.